


...Is Haunted By His Own Brother

by AnotherWorld3111



Series: The One Where Sam Winchester... [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Castiel is secretly amused, Dean is a flirt, Dean is dead, Ghost Dean Winchester, Humor, M/M, Sam Winchester is Not Amused, Sam Winchester is So Done, and oh yeah, it's still good though, some minor dissing at trump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 23:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15592719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWorld3111/pseuds/AnotherWorld3111
Summary: Sam Winchester loved his brother. He really did.But there were days where he wished he had the power to resurrect Dean just so that Sam could strangle him back to death.Yeah, Sam really loved his brother.





	...Is Haunted By His Own Brother

**Author's Note:**

> sue me for the lack of a creative title, my mom is calling me to eat, and I'm for once quite eager to go eat what she made  
> also, so many thanks to KaenNoMai?!?!?! Who, despite claiming this to definitely not be her custard and jello (;D) still helped me with making this awesome?!!?! SO MUCH LOVES AND KISSES K!!!

It was hard for Sam to remain stoic faced as people came over to him to convey their condolences for Dean’s death… when said brother was behind the person the entire time, cracking harsh remarks. 

“Dude, Mrs. Mosely didn’t even  _ like  _ me that much.” Dean exclaimed, as the sniffling, watery eyed woman walked away after pinching Sam’s cheeks one last time. 

The eighteen year old balefully rubbed at his aching cheeks, shooting the ghost of his brother a glare before immediately having to school his face into something far more somber as their next guest walked over to him.

Dean whistled. “Ah man, I’m sure gonna miss Lisa, though. Now her…” Sam swallowed, gritting his teeth and trying to focus on Lisa. His brother’s eyes on her ass was not helping matters, however.

* * *

“Jeez, Sammy. How do you even memorize all this shit?” Dean asked. His legs were crossed at the ankles on top of the desk in front of him, and he was slouched in the chair even as he somehow managed to lean over to peer at Sam’s notes. 

Sam closed his eyes, taking a measured exhale.

_ Please go away. _

Dean snorted when he glanced at Sam’s scratch paper. 

“Fat chance. Gotta make sure my little brother does all and well on his big entrance exam, don’t I?” Dean grinned. “And besides, can’t have you cheating when you’re gonna end up deciding who gets to go to jail and who gets to walk free.”

“Lawyer, not a judge.” Sam let out before he could stop himself. He immediately winced, looking around, and breathed a sigh of relief when it seemed that no one noticed. “There’s a difference.” He muttered, before trying to go back to his exam. 

Unfortunately, Dean wasn’t deterred. 

“Hey, do you think if I blow hard enough, your proctor’s wig will fall off?”

Sam didn’t know his proctor had a wig. Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to know either, because he was unable to tear his eyes away from the blond toupe that didn’t look unlike Trump’s when he finally handed in his papers.

* * *

"I could help you carry--"

"No, thanks." Sam muttered. In hindsight, maybe he should have let Dean at least help him balance the coffee cup, because maybe then it wouldn't have been all over Mr. Novak's pristine white shirt. 

AKA, Sam's new employer. And quite possibly ex at this point. 

"Oh. Ouch." Dean stared. 

Sam gulped, absolutely unable to move. That is, until his ever so faithful brother kick-started his system again. Quite literally. 

Sam jumped, and trying not to rub the aching spot in his leg, moved forward, too late trying to pat down the coffee with some napkins Dean subtly pushed towards him from a nearby table.

"Oh my god, I am so, so, so very sorry, it was my mistake, I swear--" his cheeks were burning, he was also pretty sure he was sweating, and now would be a great time to shut Sam up, please Dean, when Mr. Novak held up a hand instead, instantly halting Sam's flustered ramblings.

"It's fine, Mr. Winchester." Mr. Novak looked down at his shirt, and Sam couldn't get rid of the feeling that no, it really probably wasn't. "Although I would advise you to be more careful next time, I understand your cause of... anxiety. First day and all which is why I'm also hoping this will not happen again." Mr. Novak looked back up to regard Sam evenly.

So that's what it felt like, to have a heart attack but while also feeling like you just walked away from a car crash. 

Probably not the best analogy at the moment. 

"Ye-yes, of course, Mr. Novak. Again, I'm terribly sorry--"

This time, it was Dean who got him to stop in perfect synchronization with Mr. Novak. But Sam would have preferred the death stare over his brother's sharp elbow to the gut, because sure, being able to be somewhat tangible as an award for being dead for two years had its perks, but this sure wasn't. 

"Please, Mr. Winchester. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to change, and I would appreciate having the next client's reports on my desk to get back to."

And apparently, that was that. 

"Right. Of course."

He probably would have said more, if it weren't for the fact that Mr. Novak chose to make his exit then. 

The two Winchester brothers watched as he walked away. 

"Man, I would totally not mind if you hit that again. You know, for me."

Dean's yelp, unfortunately, wasn't heard by anyone else. 

Sam still took pleasure in the fact that he at least caught his brother off guard for once to be able to sneak in a blow.  

* * *

"I hate this." 

Pencils scratching over papers, marking mistakes for people at levels only marginally higher than Sam to look over, was the only sound again for a few seconds. 

"I really frickin' hate this, man."

Sam sighed, and let his head drop to the table. 

"You know, you really didn't have to help me, Dean." He said, raising his eyebrows at his brother, letting his chin still rest on the table, because, and though he wouldn't admit it aloud, he was actually with his brother on this one. 

Dean scoffed. "As if. And let everyone continue thinking that you're just their guinea pig or whatever? Nah, you're gonna show them who's the boss, little brother," Dean leaned over, lightly nudging Sam's arm with a wink. Not for the first time, Sam wished that he could only do the same in return, without having to worry about his own hand going trough Dean. "And if me helping behind the scenes helps you along the way, then, well. That can just be one of our little secrets, hm?"

Sam snorted dryly. "Yeah, 'cause we don't have enough already."

Dean grinned widely. "Careful, Sammy-boy. Might wanna lower the volume, before someone starts to think the newbie's talking to himself."

Whilst he glared, Sam didn't bother to answer, because unfortunately, his brother was right again.

So of course, it's when Dean helps him, that Sam gets called to Mr. Novak's office. 

* * *

“Mr. Novak?” Sam knocked on the door, warily peeking inside. 

Mr. Novak only glanced at him before nodding at him to enter, turning back around to face the floor to ceiling windows, hand pressed to his ear. It took Sam an awkward second to realize that Mr. Novak was talking on the phone.

“Yes, I will take care of it. Mhm– _ goodbye,  _ Gabriel.” 

With an irritated sigh, Mr. Novak pulled the phone away from his ear, and through the reflection on the window, Sam could see his boss pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. 

“Uhm… sir?” Sam prompted, because while he would have been content to stand there in growing unease – not really – Dean was starting to get just a little bit too fascinated with the odd knick-knacks on Mr. Novak’s desk.

“You called for me?”

“Wish he could have called for me, ‘cause hot damn,” Dean muttered. 

Sam resolutely ignored him, instead of giving into the urge of kicking his brother like a five year-old. 

“Ah. Yes,” Mr. Novak finally turned around to regard Sam. He narrowed his eyes at Sam for a moment, his eyes sliding to his desk, and for a second, Sam could have sworn that Mr. Novak’s eyes flickered to where Dean was standing, before Mr. Novak met his gaze again. “I noticed that you’ve been keeping up quite well with the work assigned to you,” Mr. Novak started. 

“Assign me to you and you’ll see just how well that can be taken care of,” Dean drawled, leaning against the wall. 

Somehow, Sam refrained from gagging at his brother. 

“And because of your process–”

“Oh baby, you can process this–”

“We were thinking of giving you the promotion a little ahead of time.” Mr. Novak finished, his face a smooth mask.

Sam blanched.

“Wait.  _ What?”  _ And mercifully, Dean must have been pretty dumbfounded as well because there wasn’t any noise from his side for once.

“Wow. You go, little brother. Think you can get yourself promoted a little closer to Mr. Blue-eyes here?”

Yeah, Sam should have figured that the silence wouldn’t have lasted long anyway. 

“A promotion.” Mr. Novak repeated, coming around his desk to lean against it, crossing his legs and resting his hands beside him as he maintained eye contact with Sam. “Mind, we had already been planning on giving it to you, but all in due time, when we were more certain of your work. However, the work you have showed us exceeds our expectations, so there is no reason to hold out on such a promising opportunity.” 

“Definitely don’t hold out… or  _ pull  _ out.” Dean waggled his eyebrows looking at Mr. Novak.

Years of ingrained will was the only thing that kept Sam focused on his boss. “And so… what does that mean, exactly, for me?” Sam pressed.

And for the first time ever, Sam saw Mr. Novak smile, a small quirk at the edge of his lips.

Dean sighed wistfully.

“It means that you’ve just been promoted to being my personal assistant.”

“Damn, Sammy, looks like I’m gonna need to send you a thank you bouquet.”

And while Sam grinned, he wasn’t really sure if he was abruptly happy with his newfound status at the company.

Dean licked his lips, a hungry look in his eyes that Sam wished he had never seen.

* * *

Sam wished he could have said that he’d suffered through worse days in his entire time as being haunted by his very own brother’s spirit. 

Unfortunately, Sam Winchester would be lying, and he’d rather reserve the false statements for when he was in court.

For example, like explaining why he was so not responsible for the murder of his already dead brother.

“You could put a dildo there, if you don’t wanna put the fart bag. Either way, it would be a riot.” Dean casually commented, seated on the large table, kicking his legs playfully. Each and every time his legs went through Mr. Adler’s crotch, Sam couldn’t restrain himself from wincing, even though he knew that Mr. Adler would be feeling nothing… except for perhaps a literal case of blue balls.

Then again, wasn’t like the douche didn’t deserve it, whether or not Dean’s legs were actually solid. 

Sam cleared his throat, straightening from where he’d finally finished serving everyone their coffee, before stepping back to where Mr. Novak was seated. 

“Hand me those files, will you?” Mr. Novak absently said, eyes on the paper already in front of him, a pen at the ready in his hand. 

Sam turned… to find Dean looking through his briefcase. “It’s a pity I couldn’t jack myself off. Would’ve made this papers a lot more…  _ interesting  _ to look at.” 

“Jes–” Sam’s jaws shut with an audible clack, but it was still too late, as several heads turned to look at the source of the abrupt noise. Of which one of them happened to be Mr. Novak, of-fucking-course. “Ah, sorry,” Sam said, neck burning. “Stubbed my toe.”

Dean didn’t bother holding back his snort at that. “Lame. And I call you my brother.”

“No one asked you to, jerk.” Sam muttered as he took the briefcase back none too kindly from Dean.

“Ooh, ouch. That one hurt,” Dean dramatically put a hand to his chest, mock pouting, before eventually slumping with a resigned look on his face. That which lasted all of two seconds before Dean got that thoughtful look on his face, which Sam learned to quick either be wary or appreciate of, because it could only mean trouble or help. Sam was definitely leaning towards the former, what with current circumstances. “Mm. I’d bet Mr. Novak there would hurt too, wouldn’t he? Seems like a big guy, all proportionate and–”

“Your files, sir.” Sam slammed the files down, narrowly avoiding a wreck of papers falling over from the sudden action.

“Mhm. Boring old, plain white files. Nothing fun or interesting about them at all.” Dean called out helpfully.

Mr. Novak cleared his throat, standing up. 

“If we shall begin the meeting…”

“Too bad it isn’t an orgy. Though I can’t really find any of these other crones appealing at all. Jesus, Sam, are you and Mr. Novak the only remotable good looking ones at this company?”

It was a wonder Sam could control himself from hitting his face. But if he did that, there were chances he would deck his brother out in the process, so…

* * *

Sam loved his brother. He really did. And yes, he wished Dean wasn’t dead so that he could be alive, happy, and well.  _ Happy. _

But there were times when Sam wished Dean was alive just so that Sam could have something tangible to wrap his hands around, and wring very thoroughly.

Now was one of those times.

“A little bit of help?” Sam groaned. And then rolled his eyes when Dean didn’t even stop laughing. “Fuck you.” He sighed. He was still very much sprawled at the base of the staircase, and though he only tripped down four steps, papers were scattered around him as if he’d fallen from a greater distance, and his ankles were just refusing to cooperate. 

Dean only laughed harder, so when it came to an abrupt stop, Sam swiftly opened his eyes, raising his head a little, instantly alert to see who else was here to embarrass him. 

Mr. Novak. 

Sam let his head fall back to the floor with a thud, a small groan escaping him before he could help himself.

Dean snorted.

And promptly started laughing again.

Mr. Novak narrowed his eyes down at Sam. “Mr. Winchester. Are you alright?” 

Well. At least it looked like his boss had stupid moments too.

“Not really,” Sam admitted. “I think I might’ve sprained my ankle.”

“Or dislocated it,” and really, there was no way his brother should be this amused over Sam’s injury. “Honestly, if you dislocated it over four steps, I hope you realize I’m never letting you live this down.”

And then Mr. Novak looked up, up, up… 

Right at Dean.

“It does not seem quite appropriate for you to be laughing over your own brother’s misfortune rather than helping him, Mr. Winchester.” Mr. Novak said, calm and coolly. And then looked back down, reaching out a hand to Sam.

It took Sam way too long to realize that his boss was helping him. But in his defense, he was kind of stuck on one thing.

“ _ You can see him? _ ”

“ _ You can see me? _ ”

Looks like Dean was thinking along the same lines as him, not for the first time.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm probably forgetting to mention something else, but honestly, I can get back to it. Foods'a calling, and #priorities :D


End file.
